


Friend from Work

by aam5ever



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protectiveness, Trust, and realizing that the guns can go away, their kinks include being nice to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 01:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aam5ever/pseuds/aam5ever
Summary: Leon finds himself there, panting, praying for his life and tucked behind the desk. Leg mangled, heart pounding and sweat pouring down his face, the hiss and clicking of sharp nails against tile tell Leon that its all over, that this is where he makes his last stand... until something disrupts his thoughts.Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.Oh, God.





	Friend from Work

**Author's Note:**

> Haha so I pretty much jump from fandom to fandom every year or so, huh? I hope that you RE2 and monster lovers like this fic! May be added to later.
> 
> Tumblr: aam5ever

God.

  


Fucking.

  


_ Damn it. _

  


It was all Leon could think as he was limping down the hall, away from a licker that was hot on his tail. He had accidentally run into a room to get away from a swarm of the undead right into a hallway patrolled by the grotesque thing, whatever it once was before lost underneath skinned, exposed flesh and sharp teeth and claws. It gurgled and screeched, as if trying to use its own echo to find Leon as he was hurrying his way through the doors, smashing through them without much care. All he could do was try to find a place to hide in silence before he became lunch meat for this thing.

  


_ First day on the force and  _ this  _ is what I have to deal with?  _ He reloaded his gun and skid behind a desk, one that most likely belonged to a former cop that he could’ve possibly made friends with if not for this zombie outbreak and whatnot. The more he found scrawled on paper and hidden behind confusing locked safes and doors just confused him further and further. A part of him wondered if anybody anywhere else in the world would believe him if he told them what he’s seen in one night. Another, smaller part of him screamed,  _ Yeah, if we even get out of here alive! _

  


He winced at the pain in his leg, his pant leg torn through by whatever had tried to bite the limb off. Leon wasn’t sure if these things could smell him, but the crowd that had been trailing him into that hallway seemingly lost him then and there when the licker picked up on his movements. Maybe they knew not to get in that thing’s way. The worst part is, that thing lost its spot in this damned police station as the most terrifying sight long ago, when  _ he  _ showed up.

  


But all of those thoughts flew out of Leon’s head when the door creaked open. It took all of him to silence his heavy, ragged breathing and attempt not to grunt as he pulled his injured leg closer to his body. Despite considering himself brave and rather put together for what he’s seen tonight, he shook as fear shot through his body once the clicking of long claws against tile was heard. It was crawling further into the room, completely blind but very talented on finding him nonetheless. With no flashbang to stun it, very little shotgun ammo to kill it, and not even an herb to soothe his wound, Leon felt, more or less, shit out of luck.

  


_ It’s over,  _ he thought as the licker’s grotesque head peeked out from behind the desk and turned to face him. It didn’t sense him, not yet, but it felt like only a matter of time until he fucked up and it would skewer him with its malformed hands. It slithered further and further into the room, and as it put some distance between them still trying to find noise, Leon spotted an opening where he could make a quick escape...

  


_ Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _

  


The licker’s head snapped up at the ceiling, and Leon shrunk his body more on impulse. It stopped, turning its head to Leon, and hissed... but that sound, that horrible, loud sound, wasn’t from him.

  


It was from something much, much worse.

  


With a screech, the licker ran towards the door, the only exit from this room unless Leon was keen on punching through cement walls like  _ some  _ people didn’t mind doing in this place. Leon heard it swing open and his stomach dropped as the screech of the licker turned into a squeal, and then a sickening  _ squelch  _ was heard before its body dropped to the ground. Zombies could smell Leon from a room or two away, and lickers could hear him coming and chase him from room to room, but this guy... this guy just always seems to  _ know  _ where Leon was.

  


There was no point in hiding anymore. Leon thought he would be mauled to death, but instead he was going to have the life choked out of him. He hoped and prayed that wherever Claire was, his sacrifice would at least save her as he finally swallowed the lump in his throat, pushed himself up from the floor, and turned to the mountain of a man in the doorway.

  


Except he wasn’t there.

  


“What the...” The words escaped his mouth before he could think. That made no sense. That man, that  _ thing  _ had chased him since he put out the fire to the helicopter crash. He crushed that other man’s head in looking for Leon. He crashed through a wall to find Leon, but now when he had him pinned in a room with no other escape... he left. “Where the Hell are you...” 

  


With pained, cautious steps, Leon rounded the desk and walked to the door that leads into the hallway. He stepped over the licker corpse in doing so, trying not to think too much about it possibly coming back to life in that second and ripping his legs off. Mustering as much bravery as he could, Leon willed himself to slowly creak open the door, expecting the black trench coat on the other side, but... there was nothing. In fact, the hallway was rather eerily quiet. Zombies Leon hadn’t been able to kill seemed to be stomped on, snapped in half, and otherwise.  _ Must have been in his way,  _ Leon tried to reason, except that couldn’t be the reason. He’s seen that man simply walk past these zombies like they were fleas. Why take them out now?

  


Curiosity won over caution. Following the zombie trail of death seemed to be the only way to make sense of all of this. Whatever he found could possibly help explain more about not only this peculiar occurrence, but about the entire outbreak altogether. While still in pain, he took his time with keeping watch on the floor and behind him, making sure none of these dead zombies decided to come back for round two. Leon’s had to deal with plenty of ones he thought to be done for coming back to just, for example, try and gnaw his leg off.

  


Going through doorways and even down the stairs lead him to the main hall. A sadness panged in his heart as the corpse of Marvin he had to put down was laying there, dead and half rotted from the turning. Marvin, who had given him his uniform and hope for getting out of this alive. Marvin, who didn’t make it. 

  


“I’m sorry.” Was all Leon could say. When he turned, Leon had to remember his words to put him down. 

  


_ “If you see one of those things -uniform or not- you do not hesitate. You take it out, or you run. Got it?” _

  


He had followed his words to a fault then on. When this room became just as dangerous as the others with his corpse trying to kill Leon, he did what he had to do... didn’t he? Morals were being swirled around in his head just by looking down at the man, and the only thing that snapped him out of it was the sound of those heavy footsteps.

  


Tyrant was here.

  


Leon tried to limp over to the storage box but his leg, which had been holding on and keeping as strong in its could in its condition, finally gave out from underneath him. “Damn it!” He groaned, trying to use his shotgun to pull himself up from the floor, but a shadow suddenly loomed over his prone form that almost made him faint. All he could do now was turn over on his back, somehow in a worse position than he was in the room prior, and take aim at the hunter in this game of cat and mouse.

  


T-00, his official name, was one of the apparently many Tyrants that was loosed in Raccoon City. Another name that was given was Mr. X. For what purpose he was released, Leon isn’t sure yet. The little he knows about him came from his own experience with this large man-monstrosity and the few scraps of notes he could find in this maze of whatever kind of police station this was. All he could piece together was that this guy has a lot to do with whatever caused the outbreak of zombies, and that his form is impenetrable by regular bullets. All these shotgun rounds would do is piss him off.

  


That didn’t stop Leon from trying. About to blast Tyrant in the face, Leon’s attempt at saving his own life went away rather quickly as the shotgun was grabbed and ripped out of his hands, thrown halfway across the room rather violently. He backed up against the storage box a bit more, now sure that this would be where he met his maker. “What’re you waiting for?” He taunted, talking much more of a big game than what he had in him. “Gonna finish me off or what?”

  


Those cold, crystal blue eyes stared down at Leon for a few moments more before a large hand came down to pick Leon up, who tried to fruitlessly struggle. Held roughly by his waist, Leon feared he was about to be crushed and kicked and hit at the hand that held him. It did little to nothing, as expected, but what Leon didn’t expect was a subtle head tilt as if... curious. For a second, it made this thing look more human, and suddenly Leon was being carried to the cot that Marvin had been laying in before his death. After being laid there, Tyrant made a gruff noise before going back over to the storage box.

  


“Hey, hey what the Hell do you think you’re doing?” Leon called to him, not knowing how to keep his mouth shut. It just seemed so bizarre. One second he thought he was going to be pulverized, and the next he was laid gently on a bed? All he could do was stare as Tyrant opened the box and began to root around in  _ his  _ stuff now. What he was looking for was a mystery until he seemed to find it; a pouch of ground healing herbs, something that would feel marvelous on Leon’s leg right about now.

  


Bandages were also found in the box, and gathering all of that up, Tyrant turned to Leon and found that a gun was trained on him from the smaller, much more damaged man. “Stay back.” Leon warned. It was really his last line of defense as he sat there, waiting for Tyrant to make the next more so he could shoot. When he did try to step forward Leon went for it and fired two shots into the man, which... more or less just bounced right off of his coat. Tyrant simply looked down at the residue of the shots and brushed it off with a gloved hand before continuing to move towards Leon. Another shot was fired and didn’t stop Tyrant, and then Leon was fresh out of bullets. The sound of the empty clip made his heart sink as the man towered over him once again.

  


There was a beat of silence before Tyrant grunted at Leon, looking at the gun. It was almost like he was saying to just give it a rest, which Leon didn’t appreciate. “Whatever you’re going to do to me, make it fast. I don’t want to die slowly in this place.” That earned him a small head tilt. Was this guy actually listening to him? He thought everything was brainless or driven by violence in this place, but maybe not.

  


Looking down at his leg now. Tyrant laid out the materials and began to apply the herbs and dress the wound before bandaging it all up. He worked meticulously, only somewhat lightening up on his work when Leon winced or groaned in pain. Nothing about him was particularly as gentle as could be, but he tried his best. Leon was in awe of gentleness in the first place, let alone helping him heal. “Why are you... doing this?” He wondered out loud. At that question, however, Tyrant did look at him for a moment in the quiet of the main hall. In his eyes, there was something more than just murderous intent or senselessness. Was it... a mind? A heart, maybe? Leon couldn’t identify it, whatever changed this man or whatever had been locked in him, aching to get out. All he could do now was say a soft, “Thank you”, to which Tyrant replied with a slow nod.

  


The herbs immediately began to take effect, soothing the irritation and the pain the wound caused. Tyrant looked away suddenly as the sounds of zombies could be heard, about to leave before seeing Marvin’s corpse. He was about to pick it up and drag it when Leon called out, “Hey!”, causing him to look back. 

  


“Don’t just... toss him out. He was my friend.” He said, not knowing if Tyrant understood anything he said. His words must have reached something, because another low noise came from the giant before he now threw Marvin with a bit more care over his shoulder instead of dragging him across the floor, now ducking out of one of the many doors in the main hall. As much as Leon hoped that he could keep Marvin in this place, he knew that he could possibly reanimate at any moment if his head was still on. Leon... did not want to blow the man’s head off to make sure he stayed dead. That would just be both too gruesome and too heartless.

  


With him gone and Leon unsure if he would return, the cop slid off of the cot with care and began to limp over to the supply box, taking what he could in case that was the first and last he’d see of a kind Tyrant. Besides, he wasn’t planning on staying in this hall for the rest of his life, and zombies could catch his scent and try to get in here at any minute. “Ammo... shotgun shells... extra first aid spray...” He remembered now the shotgun that was tossed away a couple of feet and made a mental note to retrieve it. Closing the supply box, Leon heard the heavy footsteps of his unlikely healer returning. 

  


Tryant came back and looked around for a moment, Leon unsure what he was planning to do until he grabbed a few heavy crates and put them in front of two of the doors. He went around now, boarding up the doors with as much as he could find in the hall until they were rather secure in this place. Leon now realized that as much as nothing can get in, he has a low likelihood of getting out. His stomach churned at that thought. What was Tyrant thinking now in that head of his? Was Leon a friend to him now, or a plaything?

  


The answer came soon enough when Tyrant picked up the shotgun and tossed it to Leon, who caught it and took a step back from the force behind that throw. “...thanks. Again.” It felt strange to thank somebody who seemingly couldn’t talk. “Can you speak?” He asked curiously. Tyrant didn’t answer, so he took that as the response. “Sign language? Uh, anything?” There was, again, no response. “Well, it was worth a try.” Leon made his way back to the cot and sat there with a sigh, keeping an eye on Tyrant while leaning the shotgun against the bed. Him being so big and imposing still made Leon wary, despite helping him and all.

  


After a few moments of looking over his handiwork in sealing the monsters out, Tyrant walked towards Leon and stood over him, looking down at his leg. “Oh, I’ll be fine. I could be back out there in just a bit. I have to find a way out of this station. There’s a girl here too, looking for the same thing.” He had no idea why he was explaining all of this to Tyrant, but the large man seemed to be understanding what he was saying. Leon could mark this down as one of the weirder things he’s experienced in his life.

  


“You’re... you’re a large guy. What were you made for? Who made you?” These questions now fell into the void of silence. “Sorry, you can’t talk. I just... I thought you were gonna kill me, all this time you seemed like you were gonna kill me. What the Hell happened, what changed your mind? Did... was that even what you were planning to do all along?”

  


Now the Tyrant’s face changed. His lips tugged at a frown and his brow furrowed, eyes looking a bit more troubled than vacant. Still, it was hard to get an answer from just an expression, so Leon narrowed it down to just one question. “Just... tell me this. You’re not going to kill me, are you?” He saw something, for a split second, go across the man’s face before he gave his answer.

  


Leon has never been more relieved for somebody to shake his head in his life.

  


A small smile found its way on Leon’s face. “Oh thank fucking God. You’re too terrifying to run away from anymore.” His shoulders dropped a bit, still tense but not nearly as much. For now, as long as Tyrant was telling the truth, he was more or less safe.

  


It felt weird, feeling safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: aam5ever


End file.
